Third time lucky?

Those of you who have been following my fishing exploits recently will know that I fished a little lake in Co.Sligo twice recently, neither time being a particular success. Finlough looks like it should be a good spot and I have it on good authority that it can be excellent on its day. Ever the sucker for punishment, I headed back up the N17 again today for a third attempt.

My only other outing since then had been a couple of hours on the Royal Canal near Mullingar which saw a handful of silvers landed on a cool and very windy evening. It has been a tough year so far for all us anglers in Ireland with very few good catches being reported by game or coarse rods. Once again, the weather was going to be a factor with temperatures well below the seasonal norm and a north wind blowing right in my face. My usual set up of a a float rod and a feeder came along for the ride, both left set up after a recent trip to Ballanascarrow lough which had been moderately successful.

Roach, tiny rudd, minute perch and a couple of insignificantly proportioned hybrids are all I have caught from Finlough to date. I have been assured it holds tench and good sized rudd – up to a couple of pounds in weight. If there are big fish in this small lough how the hell am I going to catch them? On my previous visites I deliberately fished pretty large hooks loaded with maggots, my idea being the bigger mouthful might deter the small silvers. I suspect this was partially successful as I didn’t catch a lot of small fish, but then neither did I hook any biggies. On the second trip I raked out a swim hoping that would draw better fish in to me but it had the exact opposite effect and the tiny rudd homed in and became a real pest. I had to come up with another plan this time around.

Sweetcorn. Everyone raves how effective it is but I have rarely caught a fish while using it as a hook bait. Maybe I had to give the yellow nuggets another chance? A tin was deposited in the tackle box as I muttered to myself about wasting my time. Hard to be confident when this bait has never worked for me. Who knows, maybe today would be different. By 6am I was packed and on the road with a strong wind blowing yet again as I took the N5/N17 to an easy to miss turn off to the left and into the landscape of tiny fields and cottages of rural Sligo. Once there, I parked up and surveyed the bank, finally settling on a stand at the other end of the lough from where I had fished before. That wind, now an East nor’ Easterly was strong and gusty, but more importantly, very cold. Gear decamped, I set up on one of those neat little concrete stands between two trees, hoping (wrongly as it turned out) that they would provide a bit of shelter.

A simple feeder rig ending with a size 10 hook was baited with corn and I lobbed in balls of groundbait, loose corn and some maggots too for good measure. The feeder went in to my right, not too far out so I could feed it with the catapult. Yes, I unearthed a spare catapult and had even remembered to bring it with me this morning. Let’s get this out of the way quickly, despite a change of rig, dropping the hook size and trying two different swims, the net result of legering corn was a big, fat ZERO. Not so much as a nibble on that rod. Back to the drawing board for me and corn!

After dismissing the notion of going big with the float, I secured a smallish green waggler with a pair of stops, tied on a 4 pound hooklength and shotted with bulk just above the hook, my idea being to try and get the bait down quickly before the armada of tiny rudd could intercept the baited hook. The second fling (you could not call it casting as I was forcing the rod into the wind all the time) I had a nice roach, quickly followed by two more. Then the rudd appeared and a pir of those wee guys came to hand next, quickly followed by a tiny perch. This all sounds good but in truth I was bloody freezing as I fished directly into the wind which had now swung dead north.

All went quiet for about half-an-hour before some perch came into the swim. Another gap then the roach re-appeared and a busy spell ensued as they greedily accepted the red maggots. Gross incompetence on my part saw the float get stuck up a tree but I successfully retrieved it. Then I hooked into something a bit better, only for that fish throw the hook at the net. It was either a roach or a rudd of a pound or so. The pattern of a quiet 20 to 30 minutes followed but a flurry of small roach repeated itself all morning. If it wasn’t for the cold wind it would have been a nice session but by 11.30 my hands were blue with th cold and the bites had dried up. Enough was enough and I packed up hastily, the thought of the heater in the car my main focus. I am guessing, but I reckon that I had more than 20 fish for the session, none of them of any size.

Another session where there were plenty of small fish but nothing of any consequence. That has been the story of my year so far and I’d dearly love to tangle with something that bent the rod for a change. I am genuinely concerned about the weather here. It is Ireland, we expect it to rain a lot and for little in the way of sunshine. The problem is the strength and direction of the wind this summer is not normal. A cold North wind in December – fair enough. That same wind in July – no, this is a sign that something is far wrong. Add to that the fact our weather forecasters habitually get the wind wrong. Nobody in their right mind expects the weather forecast to be accurate, but to not forecast days, nay weeks, of strong, cold north winds feels like we are not being told something.

So it wasn’t really a case of third time lucky, just more of the same. Undeterred, I will keep trying Finlough over the summer months until I crack it. I have a few ghillieing days coming up so I will switch codes and dig out the fly fishing gear for next week. I am hoping the very lean spell is coming to an end and the western loughs will waken up now we are well into July. Carra has been giving up the odd trout to three pounds during the evenings, a very welcome sight for those of us who recall this magical lough in its prime.